


Echo

by guineapiggie



Series: written for the Jyn Appreciation Squad [7]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 08:19:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14745254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineapiggie/pseuds/guineapiggie
Summary: Clonk. Clonk. Clonk. Clonk.Jyn stares into the darkness, clenching her teeth. It’s unbelievable to her how water can make so much noise; it’s too loud to ignore, it doesn’t fade into the background no matter how much she tells herself it will.Clonk. Clonk. Clonk. Clonk.She starts doing what she did all those years ago, in the dark – she had a lamp then, and it was warm and dry, and she was alone, which looking at her disgusting cell mate suddenly seems like a dream come true – she counts, measures the stretches of silence, counts and counts until sheer boredom lulls her to sleep.(Her last thought, half asleep, isthe storm’s going. It’s not applicable, of course – but it’s the first in months that instils a spark of hope.)





	Echo

When she was little, just six or seven, her father taught her that on most planets with a breathable atmosphere, if you counted the duration between the echoes of thunder, you could tell if the storm was coming closer or going away.

She used to be afraid of thunderstorms, but she never told her father this. She wonders if he knew, when he taught her that.

.

_Tok. Tok. Tok… tok… tok…_

Jyn gathers another handful of pebbles and tosses it out into the shadowy cave. _Tok. Tok. Tok… tok… tok…_

The echo bounces off around the rock surrounding her, back and forth and back and forth. The first time, she counted out loud, and her voice mixed and mingled in with the _tok tok_ of the pebbles, rendering the sound completely undistinguishable. She now counts in her head. It’s not ideal. She’s nervous, and probably doesn’t count evenly, and she’s not even sure if she should get the same result every time or not.

She would ask papa if he was here, he’d know –

But papa isn’t here, and a tiny part of her isn’t sure if she’ll ever see him again. Isn’t sure if anyone really knows she’s here, and if she could figure out some way to open the hatch blocking the entrance from the inside. She tried to stem it open earlier, and it didn’t move an inch, so what if she’s stuck here, what if –

Her fingers dig into the dirt, gather another handful of pebbles.

_Tok tok tok. Tok tok… tok… tok…_

_Well, is it coming or going, stardust?_ Papa asks in her head, a lifetime ago already.

.

_Clonk. Clonk. Clonk. Clonk._

Jyn stares into the darkness, clenching her teeth. It’s unbelievable to her how water can make so much noise; it’s too loud to ignore, it doesn’t fade into the background no matter how much she tells herself it will.

_Clonk. Clonk. Clonk. Clonk._

The metal walls in the cell make it worse, they add an echo, and every drop jumps around the room, the fading sound drilling into her head and instilling the almost unbearable urge to get up and run out –

Except, of course, there’s a barred door that would stop her within about four steps.

_Clonk. Clonk. Clonk. Clonk._

She starts doing what she did all those years ago, in the dark – she had a lamp then, and it was warm and dry, and she was alone, which looking at her disgusting cell mate suddenly seems like a dream come true – she counts, measures the stretches of silence, counts and counts until sheer boredom lulls her to sleep.

(Her last thought, half asleep, is _the storm’s going_. It’s not applicable, of course – but it’s the first in months that instils a spark of hope.)

.

It’s hard to reconcile her overall assessment of the situation – everything is going to plan, all is technically well, for once – with the shackles tight around her wrists and ankles, just like –

_Don’t. Plan’s going well._

She sighs and rolls her shoulders as well as the restraints allow (hardly at all) and tries to swallow down the claustrophobia, because she volunteered for this, fought Cassian on the decision, actually, because it makes _sense._ Out of the two of them, he’s so much better at impersonating Imperial officers and she has been a prisoner before. Plus, it’s a far higher-up prison where the guards are much more civilised, most of them young and straight from the academy. For the most part, they’re skittish and uncertain of the extent of their duties and their power, and still dumb enough to be less wary of a female than a male, so she has that going for her as well. They barely searched her.

(The real reason is they’re both not good at handling shackles; he knows she isn’t because he saw the marks on her wrists after Wobani, but she’s seen the flash of fear in his eyes on Jedha. He’d never admit to that, obviously, but Cassian has been running from something or other all his life just like her, and not being able to do that is a scary, scary thought. She’s been through it already, for months on end, and that’s something she still dreams about. There’s no need to give him those same dreams as long as there are other options.)

The transport crawls on over the makeshift road, shaking and rattling everyone inside in the process. Jyn is fairly certain the drivers enjoy the image, and picked that road on purpose. On Wobani, she sometimes saw one of the guards hand the driver a few credits if one or two of the inmates threw up when they got off the truck, and she’s pretty sure they had a betting pool on who could make the most of them get sick.

One of the ‘troopers guarding the officer riding with them leans his head against the hull, and the _tap-tap-tap_ of the helmet rattling against the metal with every bump in the road bounces around the tin can they’re stuck in, instantly drilling into her head.

It can’t be comfortable for him, but he doesn’t sit up. _Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap._

Jyn flexes her fingers, shifts until she can feel the tiny datastick still tucked safely into her breastband, pressing against her rib.

The shackles around her wrists seem to be growing tighter and heavier by the minute. She knows that’s in her head, technically, but it still makes her throat dry. It _hurts_.

_Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap._

She can’t move _,_ she can’t leave _, they’re not coming you’ll be in here forever this is how life goes for you, Jyn -_

No. _Don’t panic. Plan’s going well._

She closes her eyes and counts.

_Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap –_

The truck stops, but she keeps her eyes closed, because she can’t look like she cares about a routine stop even though she wants to _look,_ wants nothing more than to see a familiar face and know that in a few minutes she’ll be out of here and there won’t be metal jaws clamping down on her wrists –

_Don’t. Plan’s going well._

“Change of guards,” a quiet voice announces and she does _not_ let her cramped shoulders sag in relief, she does not, though she wants to.

“Thank the makers,” the blond officer opposite her mutters, getting to his feet. “I’ve been here for a century.”

(He’s been here for six hours, and Jyn’s been here for twenty-two and a half, but she does not open her eyes and spit in his bland face. She’s proud of herself.)

“Best job in the world, right?” the new officer says sarcastically and she hears the blond guy scoff. The door falls shut and Jyn opens her eyes, just as Kay’s voice rattles through the commlink.

“We’re good to go.”

She flinches back slightly at the sight of the ‘trooper kneeling in front of her, but then he says “it’s me” in what is definitely Bodhi’s voice, and she finds Cassian’s dark eyes over his shoulder while Bodhi fumbles with the key to her cuffs, and the tightness in her throat finally goes away.

The look he throws her is reassuring, for a moment, silently making sure she’s not hurt while she does the same, then it darkens.

 _I shouldn’t have let you do this,_ is what Cassian keeps himself from saying but his eyes say anyway, and she puts up a defiant face because she’s _fine_ , it’s all fine and it’s all gone to plan the way it never would have if they’d changed places.

His hard look turns a little softer, and he looks like he wants to say something but then the key clicks in the lock and the shackles – _finally –_ fall off and she exhales a little too much air.

Cassian’s jaw sets – he’s seen it – but he grips the blaster more tightly and pushes the door open. “Let’s go.”

 

She stares out into space, curled up in the co-pilot’s seat listening to the quiet whirr of the engine, and his hesitant steps, quiet though they are, are hard to overhear.

“I’m fine, Cassian.”

He sighs and drops down in the other chair, and doesn’t respond.

“I am, and it all went as planned. I thought you’d be glad,” she says, without conviction, because that last part isn’t really true. She knew he’d hate the plan, no matter how well it worked; and she would have hated it too in his position.

“I know,” he says, responding more to what she didn’t say than her actual words, probably. It’s something she appreciates, how few words are required for them to understand each other.

He’s not looking at her, and it’s her turn to sigh. She knows he feels bad, and she hates it, because it’s not his fault; it was her idea, and he’s not the one who did it to her in the first place.

There’s no point in telling him that, though. She’s tried so many times, and it hasn’t changed a thing.

“It wasn’t – it wasn’t so bad this time,” she says instead, which doesn’t really sound like what she meant to say, and he throws her a pointed look.

“It was different,” she says instead, and that sounds more like the truth.

“You still shouldn’t have –“

“I never knew if there was really anyone coming. Even Saw, I –” She takes a breath and resumes, more firmly: “My parents said he would come, but they also said they’d never leave me so I didn’t really know if he would really…”

He doesn’t interrupt, but there’s a bitter pull around his lips and he shakes his head ever so slightly. _Don’t do this to yourself._

She tries for a smile, and it turns out a little weak but it stays where she wants it to.

“It was okay. I knew someone was coming to get me this time.”

He sighs and leans forward in his chair, still looking at her. The darkness, that splinter of anger at himself isn’t gone, it hardly ever goes away, but he nods. “Okay.”

She hums, still smiling, and rests her hand over his. “Yeah. Like I said.”

The engine whirrs. He returns her smile, for a moment, and links his fingers with hers.


End file.
